


Safe Space

by miss_janey



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Inspired by a Movie, KaraMel, Karamel Fanfiction challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-14 16:27:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11786988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_janey/pseuds/miss_janey
Summary: Kara is a famous singer receiving death threats from a crazy fan.It's Mon-El's job to keep her safe and protect her above all else.Based on the movie "The Bodyguard".-





	1. I'll be the dangerous ledge (You be the parachute)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, first of all, I'd like to apologize for taking so long in posting this. It's like a month due.  
> These past few weeks have been beyond hectic, and I'm so sorry. But anyways, better late than never.  
> This was supposed to be a mix of Bodyguard!AU and AU based on a movie for Weeks 1/4 of the Karamel Fanfiction Challenge.  
> Songs are: 'Neptune' and 'Heart' by Sleeping At Last.  
> This is Rated M for some strong language and gun violence. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_‘I can do this!’_ Kara had to be heavily persuaded but she ultimately decided to go through with the TV interview. She was invited to a hugely popular late-night talk show and, despite the profound heartbreak she felt, she knew she had to keep this commitment. She couldn’t disappoint her fans anymore. So, she put on a brave façade – the dark circles under her eyes hidden with tons of concealer –, plastered the realest fake smile she could muster on her face, and made her way to the stage.

 _I'm only honest when it rains,_  
_An open book with a torn out page,_  
 _And my ink's run out._  
 _I want to love you but I don't know how._

She decided to ignore the pang in her chest brought by the words being sung from her mouth, and continued her performance through the pain.

 _I don't know how._  
_I don't know how._  
 _I don't know how._  
 _I want to love you but I don't know how._  
  
_I want to love you..._

Suddenly, it was over. The applause was deafening, buzzing in her ears. She approached the host and sat down. She answered all the questions thrown at her. And politely waved goodbye to the people who gathered there to see her.

As she made her way to the exit, for the life of her, she couldn’t even remember what she’d said. Her heart just wasn’t in it.

Next thing she knew, _he_ was standing beside her. He was leading her outside. They walked down a corridor, his hand burning the patch of exposed skin on her lower back, his eyes carefully sweeping his surroundings. His face was blank in concentration; she’d seen that look before, he was on all-business mode. He made every effort not to look directly at Kara, as she hung her head downwards, just as equally determined to ignore him. 

‘ _It's better this way_ ,’ he thought to himself. Repeated it over and over in his head, like a mantra. Maybe if he said it enough, he’d actually start believing it; even though he felt his heart as heavy as lead, his soul was hollow and numb. The words she’d just sung were like arrows he knew were directed at him: ‘ _I want to love you but I don't know how.’_  He felt as though he’d dug a huge hole in the middle of his chest, and he was falling and falling and falling into its depths, and he would never reach the bottom. 

He opened the door for her when they’d reached the car – as he always did –, stoically waiting for Kara to step inside. However, her heel caught on the edge of the curb and she stumbled backwards. Without hesitation, Mon-El caught her by wrapping his arms around her waist, and helped her regain her balance. He kept holding her steady, although it did nothing to help steady the pounding of her heart. The feeling was pure electric, the feel of his skin against hers, burning through the silky material of her dress.

Finally, she looked up and held his gaze – his eyes an indecipherable color between gray and blue, something shining inside them she couldn’t comprehend. He was staring at her lips, his desire to kiss her barely contained. He hungered for her; he was starving for a word, a touch, or even just a loving look from her comet-like eyes, which now shone with disdain and anger – rightfully so. He wondered if, despite everything, she still hungered for him in the same way. ‘ _It's better this way._ ’

_“Kara, I’m sorry, but I can’t keep doing this,” he whispered brokenly, keeping the tears at bay. He needed to be strong. For her. He needed to keep her safe. “I have to focus on my job, on protecting you. And I can’t do that if we…”_

_She cut him off with an incensed tone. “Keep screwing? Is that it?”_

_“Kara, please…” He tried to reason with her._

_“So, you’re too distracted by my naked body on your bed to do your job? Huh?” She kept going, her cheeks flushed with indignation. “You didn’t seem to mind last night, did you? Maybe, you should’ve thought of that sooner, don’t you think?”_

_“Yes. You’re right.” He admitted dejectedly. “I never should’ve done that. You’re my boss, Kara; whether we like it or not. My job is to protect you. And I can’t do my job if all I can think about when I’m around you is how badly I want to kiss you senseless.”_

_“Mon…”_

_“No, Kara. You’re right. And I’m sorry.” He had to get her to see, he was only trying to keep her safe – he had to. “I never meant for this to happen. It was a mistake. I’m so sorry…” His head hung down in defeat. “As long as you’re safe.”_

_She closed her eyes tightly, a crinkle forming on her forehead, and hissed out the words: “Get out!”_

_He could feel the crack in his heart. He loved her – with everything he had, he loved her. But, he had to protect her – even from himself. “I truly am sorry, Kara… You’ll see, this is for the best. It’s better this way.”_

_He gave her one last tender kiss right on her crinkled forehead. His heart beating erratically as he turned around and left. One thought resonating in his head:_ ‘It’s better this way.’

She never gave him the satisfaction of finding out because she broke away first and made her way into the car. She moved to the other side, as far away from him as possible. Avoiding his gaze once again, she turned away and stared resolutely out of the tinted car windows. At that, Mon-El shut the door, going round and taking the front seat, feeling heartbroken beyond repair.

As they drove away, the divider between the driver's cabin and the passenger’s section closed behind him, sealing them away from each other. He’d never felt as distant from her as he did at that moment. He understood her message, loud and clear: ‘Stay the hell away from me.’

 

* * *

 

He knew she was taking pains in avoiding him. This was the third rehearsal in as many days he was refused entry to. To be honest, the last few days had been painfully unbearable, at least for him. He went to bed every night, having run himself ragged with never-ending tasks and grueling workouts, so he wouldn't think about how much he missed her. He’d failed every time. Each night he ended up being woken up in a sweat, shaken by horrible nightmares – well, it was the same nightmare over and over again. Kara was bleeding in his arms, she- she was dying. He’d failed. He’d failed to protect her. The cycle repeated itself on a loop. Nevertheless, no matter how hard he tried not to think of her, the truth was _he missed her._ And it was one thing to miss a person who was far away and out of reach. Missing someone who’s always _there_ was another thing entirely. It was as if their very existence served as a reminder of unattainable dreams and frustrated desires. So, he lay on his empty bed each night; tormented by the same terrifying nightmare, only to find no relief in waking.

He was suddenly pulled from his thoughts by J’onn, who was standing before him and snapping his fingers right before his nose.

"Earth to Mon-El! Did you hear what I’ve just said?” At his nod the older man continued. “After Kara is done rehearsing today, she is going to her dress fitting for tomorrow’s show.”

“Yeah, got it. Just let her know…” Her name too painful to pronounce as he finished in a pained whisper, “… let Kara know I'm going to check out the concert venue. Make sure everything’s set. I'll be back soon.”

“What’s going on?” J’onn was giving him a penetrating look as if staring into the depths of his soul – only that was impossible because his soul was gone. He made to speak but shook his head like regretting what he was about to say. “Never mind. Though, you do look like you could use a drink, or a friend.”

Mon-El knew neither of those things would help. Only _she_ could help him now. “I just- How... how is she doing?” He asked pathetically, before he could think better of it. He wanted to kick himself – repeatedly – for acting like an obvious lovesick puppy.

J’onn, who was way too clever to be fooled by Mon-El’s persistent attempt at stoic disregard, continued to peer at him, crossing his arms in his usual disapproving stance.

“She’s an alien, I swear. That woman must have some sort of weird superpower,” Mon-El smiled at the truth of that statement. That was his Kara. Well, not _his_ anymore. “She never stops!”

J’onn pulled Mon-El away from the studio, and up the stairs into the lounge room. He took a decanter from the bar, its caramel colored liquid sloshing in protest at having been disturbed from its resting place, and placed a glass on the table in front of him. “It's too early for me,” Mon-El demurred.

“It's never too early from some liquid courage,” J’onn insisted handing Mon-El his shot. “Especially when you're bleeding your sorrows all over the place for the world to see. So, here. Have a drink!”

Mon-El downed the whiskey in one quick motion and wrinkled his nose at the taste. The liquid burned its way down his throat, instantly making him feel uncomfortably warm inside. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He set his glass down and refilled it, offering Mon-El another shot, which he politely declined with a wave of his hand. “Now, I know this is none of my business, kid. You are both grown-ups and perfectly free to make your own mistakes and suffer the consequences. However, you should know…” He paused as he took his second shot. “I love Kara. And I love my job. But when Kara is unhappy, she doesn't mope and go around crying her eyes out, okay? She doesn’t stay in bed – I think she would if she could get away with it, unfortunately for the rest of us, she can’t, because of the Tour. No, she doesn’t…” J’onn slammed his now empty glass down, taking his frustration out on the small object. “She pretends everything’s fine and keeps working her ass off. Until she overworks herself. And then she’s barely on her feet from exhaustion. And when she gets tired, she gets grumpy. And then she gets irritable and pissed off about anything and everything, and there isn't enough money in the world that can make it worth my time. And it makes me hate my job, and I hate hating my job. I wanna love it. You know?”

Mon-El visibly squirmed at that. As much as he appreciated the role J’onn played in Kara's life, he honestly didn’t want to discuss the details of their brief romance with her manager/father figure. “I still don’t understand what that has to do with me.”

“Everything!” J’onn snapped. “Right now, if she even hears so much as your name, she acts like a deranged witch. She’s impossible to deal with lately! Whatever happened between the two of you, you need to make it up to her. _Pronto!_ Before I lose it.”

“I don’t think that’d work, J’onn.”

“Well, you gotta do _something_. The only person she's nice to anymore is her sister and that's because she’s actually secretly terrified of Alex. Everyone else is fair game, and we all know that _you_ are the reason. So, fix it!”

Mon-El pushed himself off the table and stood up. “I’m sorry, I can’t help you with that.” Much to the other man’s evident displeasure, Mon-El let the mask of indifference settle upon his features once again. He was not about to divulge his true feelings or how huge the gap between him and Kara was. “You know the drill, if she wants to leave, don’t let her go out alone. I’ll be back in two hours.”

J’onn rolled his eyes. “Ha! As if I – or anyone for that matter – could stop her.”

With a final nod as goodbye, Mon-El rushed out of the place, practically sprinting towards his motorcycle and away from his awkward conversation with J’onn. He needed some air and space to clear his head. He needed to feel the adrenaline at high speed and the wind rippling through his clothes. He was reaching a tipping point – he missed Kara so much, he physically ached for her. The added pain of having to constantly be around her and see her – just to be painstakingly ignored by her – and being subjected to her accusing glare every single time he so much as glanced her way was making this even that more difficult. She was a terrible liar, she couldn’t keep any secrets because her eyes always gave it away – and those eyes told him that she was not forgiving him any time soon. And it was killing him inside. _‘It’s better this way.’_

He remembered that night – the single most amazing night of his life. Every detail imprinted on his memory. It hadn’t been a mistake, and precisely _that_ was the problem: it’d felt too right. He knew, with outmost certainty, it would have only gotten better with Kara, he could’ve had a taste of perfection, if whatever it was they had going on between them had been allowed to grow. Everything with her just worked, it clicked; like they were just jagged puzzle pieces that made no sense alone but together they fit to create a perfect picture. He hadn’t had to make a space for her in his heart, and neither had she; they had simply melted into each other, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He could’ve been _happy_ with her. He wished he had never glimpsed at that possibility, nor known that idyllic feeling of having found something so right – someone so right –, as though reserved just for him alone. Nothing would ever measure up again. She was his _soulmate_ – the vital part that now was missing from his soul, and no one would ever come close to filling that void again.

There was no immediate answer for his self-inflicted broken-heartedness. He knew it was all his fault. He just had to suck it up and push forward. One thing his life had taught him was how to endure unhappiness and live with the hurt. Actually, he was a total pro at that – so much so, he’d be disqualified for the Olympics – there was no amount of self-imposed sorrow too great for him. Even if he became bitter and miserable from his soul’s wanting, he had an impressive ability to keep at arm’s length whatever gave him joy. That was one thing he could thank his mother for – she’d made him practically invulnerable to all kinds of pain.

So, he would endure. He would keep going. He would get Kara through the last leg of her tour. And then, he would vanish from her life and hope against hope that what they said was true – that time really does heal all wounds.

 

* * *

 

Mon-El was growing more and more concerned by the minute. The death threats against Kara had just increased in number and in menace; each new one becoming more alarming than the last. The upcoming show was to be performed in benefit for the Children’s Hospital and would be held in an open area located in the city center. The worst possible layout for a decent security detail – the stage left virtually no space between the singer and the audience and there were no exits or entries, just one big open space where everyone could easily get in and out. He had petitioned Detective Sawyer for some strong police presence during the event, but knew it was unlikely without causing panic in the public, which was the last thing they wanted during a concert meant to help sick children.

He returned from the venue more stressed than ever. He’d hoped his fears would be assuaged by going to the place and check all liabilities. However, noticing the many flaws in security and the complete exposure Kara would be under, it worried him to no end. 

When he entered the living room, he was met by chaos. A mock stage was set up in the middle and there was the usual bustle of assistants, running around like headless birds with no direction. And in the midst of all that chaos, fixed like a focal point while everything around him blurred, was Kara, appearing as ethereal as a goddess. The sight of her stopped him short, not just because every cell of his body ached to touch her but because she was _absolutely beautiful_.

Her dress was a deep blue color, which made her eyes shine even brighter. She was shimmering like a star on the night sky. _Comets._ Mon-El's treacherous mind was seared with the image of her hands delicately resting by her sides, her profile angled downwards, and the dress flowing down her body like ocean waves. He knew this would be a new feature on his nightmares, playing over and over and further tormenting him.

When Mon-El could form a coherent thought again, he made a herculean effort to tear his eyes from her and survey their environment, taking into account the people surrounding her. Particularly, he noticed a handsome man kneeling by her feet, apparently fixing the hem of her gown. Mon-El furrowed his brows and cocked his head sideways as he studied the gleeful man, his face turned up towards Kara in naked adoration. Mon-El couldn't help but feel a stab of jealousy at how close to her he was, near enough to touch – a privilege he no longer possessed.

“Doesn’t she look amazing?” Alex’s sharp voice came from his side. Mon-El turned to see her glaring at him with her fierce brown eyes.

“Stunning.” He admitted. “That's Winn Schott, isn't it? The fashion designer?” He asked, choosing to ignore the look of accusation in her eyes, a look he had seen too much of lately. He had more than enough of them coming from her sister.

“Yeah, that's him. He says Kara is his favorite celebrity to work with, they’re great friends.” The displeasure on her face only deepened as she continued speaking to him. “She’s so angry at you, by the way.”

 _Not again_. “Alex, don’t…”

“When I first met you and I saw the way she looked at you, I knew,” she said, staring at him until he squirmed in discomfort, “I knew you’d only be trouble. I tried to warn her against you, but you know how stubborn she can be.” She straightened up, shaking out her short, dark hair as she smirked at him. “I have to admit, though; I had higher hopes for you. But don't you worry, she'll get over you in no time.”

“I don’t want to discuss this right now…”

“You gotta know she's the most desirable woman in the business – in the world,” she continued, ignoring his protests. “Anyone and everyone, and I mean, literally, everyone – single or married, old or young, even gay or straight – would kill to get on with her,” Alex pointed as she quirked her head at him, the challenge in her dark eyes blatantly obvious. “Anyhow, she'll hook up with someone else eventually and all these sleepless nights will be just another hurdle she's overcome. _You_ will be another hurdle she’s had to overcome. And, who knows? She might even end up writing a hit song about getting over you.”

The mere thought of Kara being touched by another’s hands, kissed by another’s lips, had Mon-El’s insides twitching uncomfortably. His mind’s eye burned and tormented by the unwanted image he’d just conjured of Kara’s breathy gasps and moans and whimpers being elicited by someone other than him. It made him beyond heartsick. He didn't want to play this game anymore. He refused to succumb to her taunting.

“Yep!” She popped the ‘P’ mockingly, studying him and waiting for a visible reaction to her words. “She’ll move on from this, and you’ll be just another distant memory.”

As much as he wanted to deny it, he knew it to be true – _painfully_ true. She'd hit him right where it hurt, chopping off his carefully constructed mask. Alex had succeeded in turning his stomach, his vivid imagination supplying the details that her words had only hinted at. He struggled to keep his face devoid of any emotion but it turned out to be impossible as his mind became fixated with the thought of Kara in someone else’s arms.

He swallowed hard through the knot stuck in his throat. “Whoever she ends up with… will be a very lucky guy,” he knew his tone all but confirmed that he'd failed at remaining composed, as he forced the words out through clenched teeth.

“Aha, sure…” she said jeeringly, giving him a sly wink and sauntering off with the bristling air of victory radiating from her.

Mon-El felt his face darken in anger. He turned on his heel, lost in a haze of jealousy and humiliation and stomped away, looking for any task, no matter how menial, to distract him from images of Kara with anyone else but him. _‘It’s better this way.’_

 

* * *

 

“Hey, don't snap at me, man!” James said while putting his hands up in mock surrender.

“I’m not!” He took a deep breath before he continued, crumpling the paper in his hand. “I'm not snapping at you. You didn't see the venue, I did. And I want that stage covered, no matter what.”

“Boss, you just told me they forbade you to do that,” James questioned. “You said they don’t want a big security presence near the stage during the performance!”

“I know that!” Mon-El’s fist banged the table. He stood up quickly, pacing to the window. “I don’t care, Olsen. I have a gut wrenching feeling about tomorrow, and I need her covered.”

James’s face darkened. “Okay, look...” He moved to stand next to Mon-El indicating the layout. “Four of us will have to blend in. We’ll go undercover as regular attendees – although that means no vests – and we’ll take these four posts here, here, here… and here,” he explained, pointing at the spots on the blueprint of the venue. “I think that's the best you're going to get.” James folded the crumpled paper, tried to make it as flat as possible again, and handed it back to Mon-El.

“You’re right. And I'll stay on stage with Kara,” Mon-El said obstinately, his face fierce in determination.

James nodded. “Well, if there’s one thing you’re good at, it is being stubborn. Just pick a position and don’t move.” Mon-El’s face didn't soften as he stared down at the folded schematic, knowing the man was right. “Don’t worry! Everything will work out fine,” he said reassuringly.

Any reassurance attempt failed. Mon-El’s misery only deepened. He felt like everyone was looking at him as if he was wearing his ass on his head. He still couldn’t shake the horrible feeling he had burning in the pit of this stomach. And Kara... she couldn't even stand the sight of him. He was tired, irritable, stressed, and just plain frustrated with everyone and everything around him. He just wanted to get it all over with. He didn't realize James was staring at him until he looked up and noticed he'd gone deep into his dark thoughts without a word. He cleared his throat and took the paper from James’s hand. “Yeah, I'm good at that,” he whispered, folding it carefully and putting it in his left jacket pocket.

James shook his head at that. “You look like shit, boss. You need to get some sleep or a drink or something. Kara is going out tonight. I'll go with her and you can take a break.”

“Kara is going out tonight?” Mon-El's head snapped up. “No one informed me.”

“It’s a last minute thing. She’s going out with Alex for dinner. Friday night is sisters-night,” James explained apologetically. “I thought you knew.”

“I didn’t,” Mon-El shook his head, angry and disheartened, but too tired to express it. He had to resign himself to Kara cutting him out of her life. The day had gone from bad to worse, and he had hit rock bottom. “I'd better go find out what the big boss wants me to do.” He took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders and making his way to the door.

“And here I was, worried about her…” James whistled, shaking his head. “You stay here. I'll go ask her. I don't want you to suddenly bursting into tears all over her or something. You have a reputation to uphold.”

“Fuck you, Olsen,” Mon-El hissed as he turned on his heel and strode out of the room. He really wasn't sure how much worse this day could get but with his luck, he imagined anything was possible. He knew he couldn't put off a confrontation with Kara any longer. He was already feeling dreadful, the sound of James's snide chuckles taunting him as he went in search of his employer.

 

* * *

 

He looked for her everywhere until he found her on the rooftop balcony, taking in the sights of the city in the distance. He paused in his approach to take in her form, reclining against the banister with her back arched. She stared out while taking deep long breaths as in absorbing her surroundings.

“Out of all that has happened these last few weeks, it's being stuck inside that I hate the most," she said longingly, loud enough for him to hear. Mon-El stiffened, knowing he'd been discovered. “I miss feeling safe and free.”

Her words felt like a slap on his face. “I will keep you safe, Kara. You’ll be free again, even if it’s the last thing I do. I promise.” And he meant it. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her. She nodded at that, and after a beat he continued. “How did you know I was here?” he wondered, stepping from behind her so that she would not have to twist around to look at him. He needn't have feared, though. She was studiously avoiding looking at him – again.

Kara gave a dry, mirthless snort, as if the answer should have been obvious to anyone. “You’re loud. You have no stealth whatsoever, and if anyone ever told you otherwise, they were blatantly lying to you. You stomp your feet like an elephant.”

Mon-El had nothing to say to that, he knew she wasn’t wrong. He snickered as he moved to her side, adapting the same pose as her. The ache of standing next to her was too great to allow him to think coherently, so he held on to his original purpose instead. “James told me you’re going out tonight.”

“I see information travels fast,” she muttered, the sarcasm thick in her voice. She shook her head, chuckling to herself again. “And yes, I want to take Alex out to dinner and maybe go for a few drinks. We haven’t had a proper sisters-night in ages, and I'm tired of being locked up all the time.”

“That’s fine,” he acquiesced, instead of arguing with her over the merits of staying in versus going out. He was too weary to argue. “What time will you be leaving? Do you want the limo?”

Kara shrugged, her slim hand waving in the air. “No. I don’t want that pretentious monstrosity. Alex is gonna drive us there. But don’t worry, we will be heavily guarded. And I think nine-thirty sounds good. What do you think, _Bodyguard_?” Acid dripped from her every word as she spoke unrelentingly. “Does that time work for you? Or will we be inconveniencing your schedule? I'd hate to get between you and your _job_.”

“Nine-thirty works fine.” Mon-El felt the dig – and it hurt – but he decided not to take the bait. “I won’t be escorting you tonight, James will be filling in for me. I need to prepare for tomorrow.”

“Even better!” She said, more forcefully than the response merited. Mon-El noticed the strain around her eyes, sensed the barely repressed fury that made her both beautiful and terrifying at the same time. He wanted those eyes to look at him lovingly once more. “I won’t have to worry about being too distracting for you to be able to do your job!”

Mon-El closed his eyes and winced at that. He didn’t know how many more of her barbed jabs he could take. He fidgeted with his jacket sleeve, watching her blue orbs burn in rage before his eyes and felt himself at a loss for how to quench her fire without going back on his promise to keep her safe. So he turned away instead, now painfully aware of the noise his footfalls made against the expensive marble tiled floors.

“You _do_ keep me safe, you know…” She admitted, barely above a whisper. “Who knows what would have happened already if it weren’t for you. I’m alive because of you!” Her voice thickened and Mon-El almost relented, almost fell before her and begged her to let him try to make her happy again. It took so little from her to make him forget every good intention he'd ever had. “Doesn't that count for something?” She pressed.

“That's not enough, Kara,” Mon-El acknowledged quietly. “I- I’d rather die than seeing you hurt… I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.” He blurted out, unable to lie to her and lock her out of his thoughts completely.

Understanding his weakness, he felt something creep inside him and invade his whole body, a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time: _fear_.

So, he did the only thing he could think of at that moment. He ran.

 

* * *

 

He’d felt relieved for a second when the day was finally over. He’d thought he would get a decent night’s sleep by sending James instead of going himself, but it backfired tremendously. Mon-El kept tossing and turning in bed, trying to make his mind as blank as possible to guard against the worsening pain in his heart. He couldn’t shut his mind off. He was too worried, thinking something horrible would happen and he wouldn’t be there to keep _her_ safe.

After checking in with James to make sure Kara had returned home safe and sound, he finally managed to fall into a fitful sleep filled with blood and guns and somebody crying out for help; he was running after someone he searched frantically for but couldn't find. In the end, sheer exhaustion pushed him down into unconsciousness and, for at least a few hours, he found relief in the blissful oblivion of deep sleep.

 

* * *

 

“You should try this one, Kara!” Alex said, as she held up a little black dress in her hands. “Aren't you going to buy anything?"

Kara shook her head. “I already have a closet-full of clothes that Winn designed for me. I don’t need to buy any more.”

Alex stared her down defiantly. “You can never have too many LBDs, they’re essential to a woman’s wardrobe. Just try it on, please!” She pleaded insistently as she yanked Kara by the hand into the tiny changing room. Mon-El moved away towards the front display windows, utterly exhausted from the strain of circling Kara in the reduced space without actually crossing her path. The shopkeeper had graciously conceded to close the shop temporarily for Kara’s exclusive use – which made Mon-El’s job easier. Also, it helped that Kara continuously disregarded his presence. The pained smile Alex had given him as they walked in had been bad enough without Kara adding insult to injury.

It was clear Kara was feeling at her wits’ end when she stepped out behind the curtain, her patience completely ran out. Nevertheless, the dress suited her dreamily – the soft folds hugged her every curve, kissing her skin, and the deep neckline gave Mon-El a mild heart attack. Suddenly, he found himself having difficulty to get enough air into his lungs, his mid-section painfully constricted; either it was his heartsickness, or Kara just looked incredible to him – well, she always looked incredible to him no matter what outfit she put on. In fact, Kara could wear a plastic bag and he would still desire her.

“Wow, you look really nice!” Alex studied her sister from top to bottom, and smiled brightly in approval. “Mon-El, wh-”

“Don’t ask for his opinion. He’s immune to my charms. Isn’t it so, Mon-El?” Kara snidely interrupted as she spun around in circles showing off the dress to her sister. “I'm just a _distraction_ , aren't I?” Kara's twirling stopped, and she strode to where Mon-El stood, stiff with tension and feeling the overwhelming need to give in to her. Mon-El sensed the challenge in her question. Standing on the tips of her toes, she whispered in his ear. “I dare you to tell me I’m not beautiful, Mon-El, and say it like you mean it.”

“I never say things that I don't mean.” Mon-El tried to avert the subject and shook his head, her proximity causing him to lose focus again. He felt intoxicated by her scent and dizzy by her hot breath on his neck.

“You are a liar and you are full of shit,” she hissed. “I see the way you look at me. You think you're so clever, huh? You think you can hide it from me, but I know the look you get every single time you lay your eyes on me. So, go ahead, and tell me I don't look good to you.”

“You always look good to me, Kara,” Mon-El’s heart raced, he could literally hear his heart pounding like a drum, feeling his head drown in wooziness. “You’re beautiful… absolutely beautiful.” He choked out, his body betraying him as he felt the telltale twitch in his pants, becoming instantly hard as she came closer to him. She was so close – too close. He balled his fists digging his nails into his palms to keep from touching her. Kara smiled bitterly at her victory, as she put her small hands over his clenched fists, slowly releasing the death grip in them and intertwining her fingers between his.

“Why do you fight it so hard, Mon? You're gonna end up wearing yourself out,” she whispered brokenly against his mouth, their eyes closed, their foreheads touching. “This is not- We're not at war, you know? I am not your enemy.” Kara looked up and stepped back dejectedly. Mon-El felt equally devastated and relieved as she moved away from him, allowing him room to breathe again. Turning on her heel, she marched over to the small changing room where Alex remained hidden during their exchange, and slammed the door shut behind her. As Mon-El regained his composure, he heard Kara say, with a voice full of intensity and defiance, “You know what? I changed my mind. I think I'll take this dress, after all. It has the positive effect I’m looking for.”

‘ _Grife!’_

 

* * *

 

“Gand, you owe me one! I got a name for you,” Maggie exclaimed through the phone speaker.

“Detective Sawyer,” Mon-El was happily surprised to say the least. She proceeded to inform him the police had narrowed down the suspects to one woman: Leslie Willis. Apparently she was a radio broadcaster who was clearly obsessed with Kara Danvers. Always talked about her on her radio show, so much so that it was bordering on stalker-ish behavior, and her comments were increasingly creepy and violent. Her background check came through with major red flags; history of mental illness and substance abuse. She fit all the criteria. His instincts kicked in and he knew then: She was their guy.

“I managed to get a warrant to search her apartment as we speak.”

“Thank you, Maggie,” he sighed in relief. After he hung up the call, he immediately sent Leslie’s full info and photo to the rest of his team. With a sinking feeling Mon-El realized there was nothing more he could do without disrupting the entire event. He'd compulsively scanned the crowds, looking for anything suspicious and catching James’s eye across the stage, where he acknowledged Mon-El with a nod. A second later, his reply came through. ‘We’re on it, boss. We'll keep an eye out for her.’

Mon-El nodded in return as he glanced up at the stage lights. All of his men were in position and diligently manning their posts. Everything that could be done was being done, now, he just had to wait, and it was killing him. He couldn’t shake the gut-wrenching feeling that screamed at him something was going to go terribly wrong.

 

* * *

 

After a few minutes, Kara emerged from backstage – looking like a vision – and approached him where he stood behind a black curtain at the furthermost corner of the stage. For a moment, he visualized himself taking her into his arms and kissing her so hard they would need to re-do her makeup. He even toyed with the idea of convincing her of not performing, but he knew she would outright reject the suggestion and there was no point in wrecking her equanimity. Her stubbornness surpassed his own, and he knew he’d never talk her out of it. He watched as the Kara he knew disappeared, her alter ego replacing her instead – cool, composed, and smiling. Yet, when he reached out his hand to help her with the small elevation that would take her onto the stage, the smooth unperturbed mask faltered and gave way. Her eyes – which lately were always either angry or frigid – were now devoid of all pretense, unguarded, naked, seeking comfort, and inviting him into her grief. Her comet-like eyes were the chink in her armor and she'd removed that armor once more for him. She never gave away anything, but she spoke volumes with that one look.

As she turned to take the step upwards, however, instead of moving onto the stage, she moved towards him, pressing her lips to his in desperation. He felt his eyes go wide in shock and was hardly afforded the opportunity to kiss her back before she pulled back. Her face was still her own – _his_ Kara – soft and pliant and begging for him to connect with her, and not the face that sent thousands of fans into a frenzy. Cursing his weakness, he leaned in only to meet with empty space, for she'd already turned to take the stage. With a final brush of a thumb against his cheek, she decidedly stepped into the spotlight; the roar of the crowd was nothing compared to the roaring of his blood racing in his ears. Nevertheless, he indulged himself and observed her, taking his fill of her – if only from afar – in a way he hadn't allowed himself to do since the night he left her in his bedroom. As he watched her, he felt something change between them. He knew, with the outmost certainty, nothing would ever be the same again between him and Kara after tonight.

Kara stood center stage bathed in the flickering lights as the first chords began to play. She appeared like a goddess before her vintage microphone. When the words came out of her mouth, he stared at her lips moving while an out-worldly sound resonated around him and filled the room:

_I'm short of breath_   
_Standing next to you_   
_I'm out of my depth_   
_At this altitude_   
_Like the world makes sense_   
_From your window seat_   
_You are beautiful_   
_Like I've never seen…_

Mon-El had to repress his urge to cry. Hers was a strength that could carry the world if she had been called to do so – of that he was convinced. He'd heard her rehearse so many times, but now the sound of her voice was as naked as her face, and it was longing, need, and wanting that carried it. She was giving him a glimpse into her soul. 

_Go ahead and laugh_   
_Even if it hurts_   
_Go ahead and pull the pin_   
_What if we could risk_   
_Everything we have_   
_And just let our walls cave in_

He tried to concentrate on his job by scanning the room to look at anything but her; the single objective of her safety driving him to focus, but her words kept coaxing him back to her. Their call was too powerful. When she glanced at him meaningfully before returning her attention to the crowd, Mon-El felt that illusion again, that she might be singing for him. Those brief seconds where she hadn't donned her mask before she took to the stage had been for him. It was _his_ Kara singing now; and _she_ was asking him to take a risk and love her, despite the dangers that bloomed like weeds around her.

_Let our walls cave in…_

He understood it all now: the secret rehearsals, the constant avoidance, even her gorgeous gown. It was all for him. And now her song was also her entreaty. She was begging him to let her in, to not be afraid.

A lone tear escaped his eye that he quickly cleared with the back of his finger. He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve her. But then, he truly believed no one could ever deserve Kara. But, well, the least he could do was try. At that moment, he made a promise to himself that he’d try to fill every minute of her life with joy, give her the happiness she deserved and love her with everything he was. He wanted to run to her right then and accept her challenge; seal his promise with a kiss, beg for her forgiveness and ask her to allow him the privilege of loving her in return. He knew Kara was worth everything, and he would protect her above all else and never take her for granted.

_Let our walls cave in…_

He felt giddy with infinite possibility. Now, they could have it all. When she glanced at him again, he nodded and gifted her with the brightest smile that emanated from his heart. He watched his _Supergirl_ light up the stage in response to him. She continued singing but he knew she’d understood. He unknowingly stepped onto the stage, still hidden by the curtain from the crowds. He was like a seaman drawn to a siren's song when the last of her brilliant notes climbed into the air. A moment of silence held the audience in its thrall before they erupted, and he knew where he would be, standing in the wings, waiting – always waiting to do whatever it was she decided he needed to do to keep her happy. She bowed, bathed in the adulation of the crowd, when a voice exploded through his earpiece disrupting his peace.

“Leslie is here!” James barked in alert. A ripple in the crowd drew his attention and, suddenly, Mon-El caught sight of James at the right side of crowd, sprinting across the wildly cheering mass of people who were all still in the trance of Kara’s talent, as he was trying to make his way to the front of the stage.

Mon-El didn't hesitate as his legs propelled him across the space that separated him from where Kara now stood, frozen to the spot where she'd just straightened from taking a bow. He lunged across the remaining distance just as the report of a loud _bang_ – clearly a gunshot – resonated throughout the entire place, though a bit muffled by the wildly cheering crowd. Panicked shouts and screams and cries for help followed that explosion of sound as Mon-El’s weight landed on Kara, toppling them both onto the stage’s floor.

Mon-El felt Kara pinned beneath him, his body encompassing hers entirely; it felt so unbelievably good that he thought, for one blissful moment, that maybe they should stay that way for a while, pretending the crowd had dissipated into the mist. However, the sight of blood seeping over the material of her dress quickly killed the thought. “Kara…” He muttered, finding it oddly difficult to speak, like his mouth was full of cotton. She moved from under him and sat up, so that she was cradling his head on her lap.

“No, Mon-El! Mon-El!” She called frantically, struggling to speak through her sobs. “No, No, No, Mon-El… Mon-El, stay with me! Keep your eyes open, okay? Baby, just stay with me!” She kept pleading but not getting through to him. Mon-El wanted to warn her that she was bleeding, that she was probably hurt, that somebody might have shot her, but his head began to swim and he was finding it very hard to stay awake as he started to lose connection to his surroundings. Suddenly, he realized he was very cold – too cold –, like there was ice flowing through his veins. He looked up into her panicked face as she screamed for help and tried to touch her cheek, to calm her down, to tell her she would be okay, but his arm was a lead block pinned at his side. “Someone call an ambulance, he's been shot!”

Mon-El felt himself slipping away from reality, only Kara’s cries keeping him grounded. “Mon-El!” She yelled his name again, swatting a pair of hands that were coming closer. “Don't touch him! Get away from him!” She barked, the flow of tears now threading a clear path through her makeup. “Mon-El, please, stay awake! Don't you close your eyes on me, you hear me? You can’t fall asleep now!” She ordered him, as if the sheer force of her will could keep him from losing consciousness. Her voice broke as she ran her hand over his forehead, through his hair and down his cheek. “Please, I can't- I can’t lose you…”

“It’s okay…” He had the sudden thought that he might have been the one who'd gotten shot, that the blood on her dress was actually his. But… That meant Kara was alive. She was safe. And, that was all that mattered. He could go in peace, knowing that he had only ever done his best, that this time, his best had been enough. “Kara, it’s okay…”

“No, it’s not okay!” He still managed to smile at her entreaties, with the exquisite feeling of her thighs beneath his head and her soft hands cradling his face. Meanwhile, Kara's pleas took longer to reach him across a vast ocean of fog and confusion, and he struggled to answer her, as best he could, before his world faded into darkness.

“ _As long as you’re safe_.”

 


	2. Our mistakes, they were bound to be made (But I promise you, I’ll keep you safe)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Here's the final chapter of this story, I hope you like it.  
> Title is from "I'll Keep You Safe", and the song Kara sings is "Saturn", both by Sleeping At Last.
> 
> Enjoy!

_“As long as you’re safe…”_

Kara felt Mon-El go completely limp in her hands. His eyes closed despite her willing them to do otherwise. Everything afterwards was a blur –the chaos of shouts and sirens around them, J’onn tugging at her arm so that she'd give the paramedics room to work, the shock in the faces of people who gawked at Mon-El. His face so pale, so lifeless, he already looked like a ghost. And, the blood. A pool of blood she was sitting on. A pool of blood staining the stage floors. Mon-El’s blood –so much blood– pouring out of him, splotching the beautiful dress Winn made for her. _His_ blood tinting her hands in red. Mon-El’s _blood_ on her hands…

Mon-El still wore a shadow of a smile on his face. He looked beautiful and peaceful. He’d finally relented and given in to her, to himself –to _them_. And then, this happened. She would never comprehend the fairness of the whole situation but Kara was familiar with the way life gave just enough to keep one hopeful before ripping it all from your hands. She'd taken a risk; she let him in and allowed herself to love him, just in time to mourn him. Maybe, she just wasn’t meant to have it all.

Fortunately, James had pinned down the shooter, Leslie Willis. He said in his police statement that she caught his attention because she was wearing a heavy winter jacket, in the middle of summer, in a 37ºC-degree temperature; so when she started to make her way to the front of the stage with her right hand pulling something out of the left inside pocket, James had had only his instincts to go on. Shoving people aside had been just the thing that startled Leslie before she fired off that one round and made a break for it, perhaps hoping to fade amidst the mayhem. But James, large as he was, was also unnervingly fast and had reached the woman just as Mon-El lay across Kara’s lap. Those few moments of distraction had been enough to allow Mon-El to get into place and spare Kara the bullet. Those few moments of distraction had been enough to save her life.

 

* * *

 

 

Kara watched as Mon-El was laid on a stretcher, an oxygen mask secured around his face, and being wheeled out of the premises. She would have collapsed if Alex had not been holding her up. She tried to recover her poise, but watching the flood of buzzing paparazzi held at bay by the police tape, waiting to overwhelm her with their venom, made it impossible. She could not deal with anything at that moment. Leaning her head onto Alex’s shoulder, tremors finally overtook her. “I need to get out of here. I have to get to him,” she managed to say through her heavily chattering teeth.

“Oh, my God! Kara, you're shaking!” Alex said in a panic, squeezing her sister close to her, trying to radiate some of her warmth onto the blonde. Her whole body felt as if it didn’t belong to her anymore, it felt distant and numb, racked by her uncontrollable quivering.

“Kara, honey, you must come home and change,” Eliza tried to reason with her youngest daughter. “You're going into shock, sweetie, and you're covered in... Mon-El’s blood.” She could barely complete the sentence before turning her face away, a hiccupping complaint rising up in her chest. Eliza understood better than anyone what losing the love of your life felt like, after losing Jeremiah she was never the same again. She did not want her daughter to experience the same pain. That sweet boy had saved her life and if, heavens forbid, he did not make it, she knew Kara would be devastated beyond repair.

Kara shook her head against her sister’s shoulder, clinging harder to Alex. “We have to get her out of here,” J’onn grumbled, dialing on his cell phone and arranging to have the car brought around. “The police know where to find us if they need us.”

James, who had only just returned from giving his statement, took both Alex and Kara by the elbow and led them away from the press, Eliza and J’onn following close behind.

 

* * *

 

Even if she’d tried, Kara could remember nothing about what happened in the moments after Mon-El had been taken away. The ride to the hotel, taking the elevators to her penthouse, getting out of her bloodied gown, being dragged to the bathtub, continuously fussed over by Eliza and Alex –and even J’onn and James and Winn–, it all blurred in a haze inside her head with the image of Mon-El’s lifeless body. She only had one thought fixed in her mind: ‘ _I have to get to him.’_

They tried to talk her into eating or resting but she couldn't do it. She couldn't concentrate on anything but him –the sight of his blood still imprinted on her mind’s eye. She didn’t care about food or her appearance, or the horde of reporters that were invading her hotel building. She’d let J’onn take care of everything because she only had one objective. She had to get to him.

When she stood in the receiving hall of the penthouse, pacing like a maniac, still shivering and waiting for the car to be ready, no one dared to speak to her. Although, she wasn't alone –Alex’s arm was linked through hers, and Kara marveled at the steadfastness of her big sister. Throughout it all, she knew she could count on Alex having her back, and being there whenever she needed her. Kara understood the many sacrifices her elder sibling had had to make in order for her to have her career. It was a true testament to how selfless Alex really was; she never complained, she always protected her little sister to the best of her abilities, and she never begrudged her anything. For that, Kara would forever be thankful.

“He’s going to be okay,” Alex whispered, her head softly resting against Kara’s. At her appreciative hum, the brunette hugged her sister a bit closer.

Seconds later, James burst through the front door. “The car’s ready whenever you are,” he said as he bound down the small stairs to get to where the sisters were standing. “Mon-El is in surgery right now, so we’ll have to wait for a few hours.”

Kara threw her arms around his midsection, hugging him tightly to her. “Thank you, James,” she whispered against his chest. James had always been a good friend to her, a sort of guardian, that slowly but surely became part of the team, of the family.

“He saved your life, Kara. I’m indebted to him for the rest of my life…” He stated. “We all are.”

“Well, you had something to do with it as well,” she said as she pulled back, craning her neck to really look at him. “If it weren’t for you distracting that bitch long enough for Mon-El to reach me, I wouldn’t be here right now. And I’m so grateful to you.”

“You’d better be. I don’t know what you two would’ve done without me,” he gave her a wry smile but Kara’s thoughts had already drifted. She was taken ahold by a special kind of fear, one specially reserved for Mon-El. “Come on, I’ll take you to him. I know you’ll want to be there when he wakes up.”

Kara nodded, releasing him to make their way downstairs to the lobby. The limousine was waiting by the entrance, keeping her head down and her eyes hidden by sunglasses, Kara walked towards the open car door, sitting inside and sliding to the farthest window, with Alex sitting next to her, and James occupying the front passenger seat.

As they pulled out, Kara stared down at the journalists swarming the sidewalk, as if daring them to trifle with her. They ran after the car and followed them for a few meters, attempting to take that million-dollar photograph. She could already read the headlines: “ _Kara Danvers rushes to be by the side of her wounded bodyguard and boyfriend, Mon-El Gand_.” And she, who was averse to putting her personal life at the hands of the press under any circumstances, couldn’t care less. Let them flock down on her and try to touch her and try to talk to her and try to get a rise out of her. It would prove ineffective. Her wrath was such that she felt she could take on an entire army by herself, her body buzzed in an empowering uncontrollable rage.

Hurtling through the city, Kara rested her forehead against the tinted window, absentmindedly biting her nails down. The silent air in the reduced space of the cabin bristled with repressed anger and anxiety, Kara felt her sanity hanging by a precarious thread, her strings strung so tight, that the minimal pull would make her snap.

After a brief time of tangible tension, Alex spoke. “You really love him, don't you?” She said, taking her sister’s hand and smoothing down the angry red nubs that had become her fingers. Kara opened her mouth as if to speak but the only sound she emitted was a barely suppressed sob. Instead, she could only nod her head, feeling her face crumble like sandstone under the heavy weight of her worry. Alex pulled her in arms and held her as Kara finally yielded to her fear, her fury giving way to terror for Mon-El’s life. She’d never been as afraid for someone else’s well-being as she was for his, from the moment she saw him race towards her across the stage. “Hey, being loved by you is the best thing that can happen to anyone, I happen to know it from experience,” Alex said quietly as she caressed her sister’s hair while loud sobs rocked Kara’s body. “He'll be okay, Kara. I’m sure of it.”

“He- He’d better be…” Kara huffed out between those awful hiccupping sobs she detested so much. “I don’t- If anything were to happen to him, I don’t know- I can’t…” She took a deep breath and tried to finish her sentence, “So help me God, Alex, I- I don’t know what I’d do if he- If he…“ _Died._ Kara couldn’t say the word aloud, the thought unbearable, the idea unthinkable.

“Oh, and what are you going to do? Huh? Pummel him?” Kara heard her sister’s chuckle and could not stop the giggle that escaped her also. Alex’s wit lightening the heavy tension for a little while. “Poor guy! Give him a break, K, he’s already been shot!”

Kara let the humor soothe her fears for a brief instant, before it gave way to the persistent dread that chilled her to the bones; the agonizing fear that the surgery wouldn’t be successful, that he’d succumb to his wounds, that she’d have to contend with his loss. She shivered at that unconscionable notion and raised her eyes to her sister, all her defenses falling away. “I need him, Alex. I... he just- he can't… I can’t lose him. _”_

“He won't, Kara. He won’t do that to you. And when he’s up and running once more, you’ll get to tell him that you love him, face to face. He deserves to hear it from you,” Alex softly said. “Because… I know that idiot loves you.”

Kara nodded, accepting this and convincing herself of its veracity, because the alternative was insupportable.

 

* * *

After what felt like hours, but couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes, they finally arrived at the hospital. As she set foot on the reception area of the Emergency Room, there was no fuss from the hospital personnel, it was all quiet in between the chaos of doctors and nurses running around. A kind lady behind the desk directed her towards a small room in the surgical unit, where friends and family could wait patiently under soft lights and pastel-cushioned chairs, while their loved ones fought for their lives.

James scoped out the entrances and rooms around the waiting area near the OR as Kara took in the handful of occupants speaking in hushed voices in the corner. Kara did not recognize the older couple and chose not to focus on them until a familiar glance made her heart feel as if it would explode with relief. Lena rose, red-eyed and shaking, from amidst the group at the sight of Kara.

“Kara!” She exclaimed, greeting her with a hug and clinging to her. It seemed momentarily strange to Kara that she was there, as if Mon-El should only have her to care and worry about him. Of course Lena would come. She was one of the most important people in his life. She was his best friend –his oldest and only friend.

Truth be told, Kara owed Lena everything. She never would’ve known Mon-El if it weren’t for her. Lena Luthor was one of the richest and most influential women of their generation, and it came to no surprise that she was heavily guarded around the clock.

Mon-El had told her the story during one of their many late night conversations. How he began his career as a security guard as soon as he graduated high-school. How he trained and worked hard until he became the best at his job. How at just twenty-one he was designated to protect the Luthors, mainly Lena. How they became fast friends. How she was his only real friend and that he loved her as a little sister.

Kara had met Lena at one her many benefit galas. They’d gotten along so well, that a tentative friendship bloomed between them. A few weeks later, when Kara explained the situation with her obsessive unhinged fan, and how she felt overwhelmed and unsafe, Lena immediately recommended Mon-El to be her new head of security. She sang his praises about how many times he’d saved her life, how responsible and accomplished and protective he was. That there was no one better equipped for the job.

Kara had hired him the next day.

“Lena, I'm so sorry!” Kara blurted out. “He's here because of me!” She cried, trying not to sob again as the guilt weighed down even more heavily upon her, crushing her soul and spirit.

“Don’t be silly, you’ve got nothing to apologize for! He was doing his job; a job that he loves, a job that fulfills him,” Lena said breathlessly, tugging Kara back to her and clinging tightly again. “I'm sure when he realizes that you’re safe, it will be the proudest moment of his life,” Lena pulled back again, capturing Kara’s eyes with her piercing gaze. “He’ll be fine, Kara. I promise you!”

Kara nodded at Lena’s words –choosing to believe her rather than facing the alternative– and gave her a watery smile, wiping her nose unceremoniously on the back of her sleeve. Lena sniffled, finally noticing Alex at her side. “Is this the famous sister you’ve told me so much about?” She asked with a smile.

Kara gave her a wry smile in response and stepped aside in order to introduce her sister. “Yes, this is Alex,” she said, before signaling with her arm towards the black-haired woman. “Alex, this is Lena. She is Mon-El’s best friend.”

Lena hugged Alex as if she'd known her for a hundred years. “I’m so glad to finally meet you!” She exclaimed with subdued, but sincere happiness. “I’m just sorry is under these circumstances.”

Alex was momentarily taken by surprise by Lena’s effusiveness, nevertheless, she opened her mouth to reply, but a dry and acidic voice from behind them interrupted them.

“Ms. Luthor, aren’t you going to introduce us?” Kara turned to see a tall and dark-haired woman of about sixty approach them with a pinched look on her face and a judgmental raised eyebrow. She realized she was the woman she’d noticed in the waiting room, standing next to her –presumably–husband. She felt that she knew the lady from somewhere and tried hard to place her, and after a few moments she gathered with a shock that she was face to face with Mon-El’s mother.

Mon-El had been candid about his abusive mother. How manipulative and devious she truly was. His childhood was marked by her violent blows, both physical and emotional. He explained that his mother was one of the reasons he decided to become a bodyguard; he wanted to help protect people who were defenseless –just as he was defenseless growing up in that house. He wanted to be strong and prepared, so that he’d never feel that vulnerable and helpless again.  

Furthermore, coming from old-money, Rhea Gand made it abundantly clear how displeased she was at her son’s choice of employment. Instead of continuing the family legacy and taking over their multinational business, Mon-El had chosen to become a ‘menial servant’. Something his mother would never forgive him for.

“K-Kara,” said Lena tremulously. “This is Mrs. Rhea Gand, Mon-El’s mother.”

Kara understood Lena’s nervousness. The woman was thin and imposing, beautiful with a regal-like bearing. Kara had not forgotten Mon-El’s or Lena’s description of his mother. She had not forgotten the terrible first impression that oppressive mother had made on her. Rhea Gand appeared to possess a will of iron and expected the world to bend to it, including Kara. But Kara could only smile internally, because if Rhea was iron, she was forged from steel. "Kara Danvers," she raised her hand in introduction.

“Mrs. Gand to you,” she stated, avoiding her proffered hand and pursing her lips. Being at least half a head taller than Kara, she used it to her advantage and stared down at her with a deep and calculating look. It was clear that Mon-El’s mother was accustomed to using her cold and dark eyes and intimidating height on most people to get her way. But, Kara was not most people. She felt Lena shrink back to speak with Alex as Kara held her ground before the older woman. “So, he was in your employ?” Mrs. Gand asked dispassionately.

“Yes, ma’am. He still is, if that’s what he wants,” Kara responded, equally nonchalant. “I can never hope to repay what he’s done for me. And I'm terribly sorry to be the cause of your family’s suffering.”

“Indeed,” she snickered. “How quaint, isn’t it? To sacrifice his own life for a pop princess.” Mrs. Gand’s face became pinched once more, as if the room had suddenly become rank with sewage; her hands firmly crossed against her chest, as if the smallest brush of skin would prove scalding. She appeared to be preparing quite the scathing set down when a large man stepped forward, in appearance so much like Mon-El, that Kara felt his absence acutely.

Mr. Gand –Kara assumed– thankfully interrupted whatever Mon-El’s mother was about to say. “Rhea, would you be so kind as to escort Ms. Luthor to the cafeteria? She doesn’t know the way.”

Mrs. Gand snorted loudly, the nostrils of her thin nose flaring like those of a thoroughbred. She knew she was being slyly dismissed. Without a word, she rounded on Lena who was quietly standing behind her, and led her down the hospital hallway towards the elevators. As soon as Rhea was out of sight, Lena sent an accomplice wink in Kara’s way.

“You’ll have to excuse my wife. To become angry is her default reaction to bad news, well, to be honest, becoming angry is her default reaction to every situation,” Mr. Gand said, making excuses for his wife’s rude behavior. “She is extremely worried about Mon-El, as am I.” Kara seriously doubted that assessment but she let it go. Now was not the time to dive into the turbulent waters of Mon-El’s upbringing. “I'm Lar Gand, by the way; Mon-El’s father. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Kara took the larger man’s hand and shook it gently, unable to tear her eyes away from a face that looked like an older version of Mon-El’s. It hurt her heart, and she had to chew on the inside of her cheek to keep from bursting into tears. Maybe it was the resemblance or maybe her instincts responded to the man’s kindness –for Kara had a terminal weakness for kind people– but she felt she could trust this man and bring him into her confidence, regardless of the nagging part of her brain that told her he was as much to blame as his wife for Mon-El’s horrific childhood. “How is Mon-El?”

Mon-El had told her how his father was a nice man, perhaps too nice for his own good, that he wouldn’t put a stop to his wife’s tyranny. Rhea had him on a leash like a dog. His father had stood by and let his wife do all the hard ‘disciplining’ of their son, while all he did was offer lame excuses and insufficient words of comfort in the aftermath. Rhea trampled everyone around her under foot, and it was usually Mon-El the first one getting squished. He’d explained that it got better the older he got, and somehow worse at the same time; since his physique increased, the physical blows decreased, which meant his mother needed to become incredibly creative in finding new disturbing ways to punish and hurt him –that usually ended up with him hating himself and doubting his self-worth. He’d told her he didn’t blame his dad because, despite his passiveness, he’d been loving and encouraging towards him; he’d known his father had done his best, and that was all he could’ve asked for.

“They haven’t told us much,” he shook his head, his kind face creased with worry lines. “When he was admitted, his surgeon informed us he would need emergency surgery,” he gave Kara a sheepish look and gestured with his hands. “Which I guess you already know.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, urging him on. “I came as soon as I could.”

“Well, I don’t know all the medical jargon, but basically, the bullet shattered some ribs and punctured his lung. Miraculously, it barely missed his heart by an inch. He was unconscious when they brought him in. He was very lucky all in all. A minute later might’ve been too late…"

 _Too late._ “I’m sorry, Mr. Gand!” Kara burst out in a loud sob, then covered her mouth when she saw the look of pain cross his father’s features. “I'm so sorry!”

“It's okay, dear.” Mr. Gand swallowed hard. “My son is a strong man, and I know he will pull through.”

Kara nodded, unable to stem a few rogue tears that now streamed down her face, as she wiped them furiously away. “He is,” she confirmed. “He’s so strong and brave. You should be proud of him. I know I’m not- I’m not worth much, but I-” She choked out, biting her cheek again until she tasted the thick metallic flavor of blood. The pain functioning as an anchor to her reality.

“No, don't say that. I don’t think my son would appreciate hearing you talk that way,” he said, putting a large calloused hand on her shoulder. Even his skin had the same golden hue as his son’s. “I’m not blind, child. And I've seen the news. Are you two dating?”

Kara blushed furiously and looked down at her shoes, finding it difficult to hold his gaze. “Mr. Gand...”

“You can call me Lar.” He interrupted and winked conspiratorially.

“Lar,” she started, before the knot in her throat became too thick for words to come out. “I- I... care... very much... for M-Mon-El.” Her hands began to shake like a tree leaf against the wind, when she felt a pair of hands grasp and cover hers. “If... something happens… to him…” She whispered brokenly, the tears overflowing her eyes and falling freely down her cheeks. “I- I can’t stop thinking what if things had gone differently; if I’d been paying attention, I might’ve prevented all of this…” She shook her head to try to clear her mind of the treacherous thoughts, and then, she felt Lar’s arms go around her, holding her against his broad chest, so wide and safe like Mon-El’s. But it wasn’t him. Those arms, though similar, didn’t bring the same warmth and comfort. No one would ever make her feel the way Mon-El did, and this realization gutted her from the inside. “I'm so sorry.”

“Shhh... It's not your fault.” He pulled back, his own eyes wet with tears that he was fighting hard to keep from falling. “Don’t blame yourself, dear. He knew what he was getting into when he took up this line of work. And I'm sure, when he finds out that you're safe, it will be the most important thing in the world for him… Any other outcome would’ve been intolerable for him.”

Kara thought of the night she took off without her security detail, trying to feel _normal_ for a while, only to find out her stalker had been lurking around and had sent her a new threat that involved not only her but her sister and mother as well, how harried and upset Mon-El had become. She didn’t understand his sense of duty back then like she did now. She remembered how angry she’d been with him, the sheer ugliness of the insults she hurled at him, because she’d been too blind to his guilt and dismay. She knew his father was right. Mon-El held himself accountable for every single thing that happened to her. She was ready to break into a million pieces, but the truth was, she had not been responsible for him as he’d been for her. If it were her in that hospital bed, or worse, she knew it would be Mon-El’s undoing.

“Thank you,” she whispered, straightening up with newfound strength and wiping her cheeks with finality. “You're right. He is the most valorous man I know but he’s also the most stubborn, and he probably won’t ever let me live this down,” she smiled, finding an answering one on his lips –very familiar to the one she knew. “Lar, I'd like to introduce you to the family…”

 

* * *

 

After a grueling five-hour surgery, Mon-El was moved to the Intensive Care Unit to keep him better monitored during those first critical hours. His surgeon came out to speak to them and Kara made sure to listen to every word he said. He explained there were some minor complications during the intervention because of his collapsed lung and extensive hemorrhage, nonetheless, the surgery had been a complete success; they managed to remove the bullet fragments –which was vital to prevent any lead poisoning– and repair the damaged tissue. Mon-El would need cardiorespiratory physiotherapy and would have a long road ahead towards recovery, but he was out of danger, which caused the small group of people to cheer happily. Kara grasped her sister, hugging her tightly. They’d be able to see him but he would be unconscious for a while longer as he was still under the effects of the anesthesia.

Visiting in the ICU was limited at three people per patient and it was agreed that his immediate family should see him first, and then, Kara. Alex was drooping her head against her sister’s shoulder as the allotted ten minutes for each visitor passed. “James, why don't you take Alex home? I’ll stay here,” she said, watching the brunette’s eyes flutter shut.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” he said warily.

“Don’t worry about me, no one’s trying to take me out anymore,” Kara said with attempted humor. “Plus, I’d kill for some potstickers right about now, I think I'm gonna be here for a while. Also, maybe get me a change of clothes?”

“Are you planning on sleeping here?” James grouchily asked.

“I’m not going anywhere until Mon-El awakes,” she smiled wearily. Kara crossed her arms, speaking in a hushed voice so as not to disturb the handful of people dozing off in the chairs. “Once you bring me the spare clothes, you can go home and get some rest, you need it. I’ll call you if I need anything.”

“Kara…” James said ominously.

“I’m not leaving and you're not changing my mind. Now please, take Alex home.”

Once Mon-El’s parents had gone in to briefly see him, they went home, followed by Lena and the rest of the team. With a resigned sigh, James lead a half-sleeping Alex out of the waiting room, which was a relief for Kara because she was looking forward to a moment of peace as the group of people dwindled down.

Finally, the nurse came for Kara, who was led down to ICU wing. They stopped at an anteroom where she was given a hospital robe and a surgical mask to wear inside the unit. After thoroughly washing and sterilizing her hands, she pushed the sliding doors with her shoulder. A ‘ _Quiet’_  sign on hung on the wall by the entrance. The eerie sounds of beeps and pumps filled the air as Kara scanned the empty beds and tiny rooms. Walking behind the kind nurse, Kara stopped when she pointed to the fourth partition, her feet sliding through the spotlessly clean floors, taking her to his side as if floating. Her eyes finally settling on him, he was so still and pale, she could see the drain of the surgery and the weakness of the anesthesia etched onto his face. He slept but it was unnatural. The one time she’d slept beside him, his slumber had been more animated, more dynamic than the figure she now contemplated. Even when he was having nightmares, he’d looked more… _alive_.

Regardless, her relief at his survival, that the bullet had not pierced his heart, made him the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen. She perched on a stool as she fully took him in: the tubes protruding out of his body, the dripping IV, the puff of the machine pumping fluids and medicine into his body, the oxygen cannula affixed to his nose, the constant rise and fall of his chest. She touched his hand, which was cold and limp, and held on, suddenly impatient for him to wake up.

“Mon, I'm here,” she whispered, brushing a lock of his hair out of the way with her free hand. “You saved me. I want you to know that, I know it’s important to you,” she paused, running her fingers over the face she’d longed so much to touch. “When you wake up, I’ll be here. I want my face to be the first thing you see. In fact, I want my face to be the first thing you see every morning and the last one you see each night. You think we can make that happen?”

He remained inert, the machines keeping them company. She hated the sounds that surrounded him –the dead, clinical silence that answered her; the methodical beeping and mechanical pitter-patter. So she began humming, first low in her throat, then a little louder. Until the hum became a soft murmur, and the soft murmur became a song. She sang to bring something _human_ into the air and also, because as she’d once told him, singing was her comfort and she needed it at that moment.

 _You taught me the courage of stars before you left._  
_How light carries on endlessly, even after death._  
 _With shortness of breath, you explained the infinite._  
 _How rare and beautiful it is to even exist…_

Kara continued to sing tenderly, a sense of peacefulness overcoming her as the words that reminded her so much of her father spilled out of her mouth. For a period, she’d stopped singing after Jeremiah died but it didn’t last long. She needed an outlet, and singing was the only one she knew.

_I couldn’t help but ask for you to say it all again._   
_I tried to write it down but I could never find a pen._   
_I’d give anything to hear you say it one more time._   
_That the universe was made just to be seen by my eyes._

And so, in the middle of the sterility, there was Mon-El. Kara closed her eyes and let her melodic voice rise in the empty space, filling every corner with her gentle tune. When the nurse came to tell her that her time was up, she paused at the threshold, joined by a pair of doctors who did not dare to interrupt as Kara’s voice rang like a bell in a lonely church, full of longing and an invitation for her love to follow out of the depths of the dark pit he was in and back to her again.

_With shortness of breath, I’ll explain the infinite.  
How rare and beautiful it truly is that we exist…_

“Kara?” His voice came in a whispery breath, so low she almost thought she’d dreamed it.

When she opened her eyes, she found Mon-El looking drowsily up at her. “Mon-El!” She gasped, dashing to take up his hand and lovingly caress his forehead. “Mon, you’re awake.”

"Am I dead?" he rasped, his voice barely audible like the fluttering of butterfly wings. “Is this heaven?”

“No, you’re not dead,” she answered with a chuckle, trying to bite back her tears of happiness, reluctant to let him witness her anguish. He was _awake_ , and that was the most wonderful thing in the world. “You’re alive, and so am I –thanks to you.” He gave a small smile in response.

At that moment, the nurse entered, speaking low so as not to startle them. “He’s awake?” The woman said, proceeding to check Mon-El’s vitals.

“Yes,” Kara said as she squeezed his hand, hungrily taking in his beautiful face as his eyes fluttered closed again.

The nurse, who she gathered was named ‘Dana’ if her nametag was to be believed, gave Kara a sweet smile as she took notes on her chart. “Can I stay with him just a little while longer?” Kara asked.

“Actually, we’re prepping him to move into his own room. His vitals are stable, and what he needs right now is plenty of rest,” Dana, who was a tall and thin woman of about thirty, with long blonde hair and kind brown eyes, appeared to have the routines of her profession down to a science as she meticulously reset his IV drip. “If you wait a while, I’ll let you know when you can go with him… You can stay but only if you let him rest!” She mockingly ordered and glanced at Mon-El, whose eyes had opened and closed again. “Though I don’t think you’re getting anything out of him tonight.”

“That’s okay. Thank you! I promise I'll let him sleep.” Kara stood to make room for Dana to work, her legs trembling with excitement.

The nurse stared between Mon-El’s drowsy face and Kara’s smiley one, shaking her head at them both. “I don’t think you’ll get much say on the matter,” she indicated towards where Mon-El lay with his eyes closed and his chest evenly rising and falling, deep in the confines of sleep.

 

* * *

Kara didn’t even realize she had fallen asleep. One moment, she was under the hospital-issued blanket, watching Mon-El’s resting profile, and the next, sunlight peeked through the thick white curtains of the hospital room; the swishing noise of a nurse checking on Mon-El for the umpteenth time rousing her from her rest. She washed up and hunted for coffee before curling into a chair at his bedside to keep her vigil. It amazed her, the number of times he'd been checked and fussed over, and yet he slept through it all. Seeing his calm slumbering face, her mind couldn’t help but wonder whether he was a having a good dream.

She remembered the first night they stayed up late talking, the night she realized she wanted to protect that man as much as he protected her. Not only from his witch of a mother and his deep-rooted self-loathing, but she genuinely wanted to make him smile –make him happy.

_“Hey, Mon-El… Mon-El,” she murmured quietly, trying not to scare him. However, his trashing body and pained whimpers worried her, as she pushed on his shoulder to wake him up. “Wake up!”_

_“Wha-? What happened?” His disheveled look made him seem adorable to Kara’s eyes. “Ms. Danvers, what are you doing here?” He said with a horrified expression as he pulled the blankets up in order to cover his naked chest. Although, it was already too late, the image was already ingrained into Kara’s brain._

_“Argh, I’ve told you multiple times to call me Kara,” she said defiantly in a commanding tone that brooked no room for argument._

_“Alright…” He hesitated a beat before he continued, “Kara.” Her name on his lips were spoken like a velvet caress that sent shivers down her spine and an aching in her core. “May I ask what you’re doing in my bed?”_

_She wanted to laugh it off and make it look unimportant, however, there was a deep sadness inside his steely eyes. She’d never noticed before how they changed color depending on his mood; when he was happy and confident they were a molten mercury gray, but when he was sad and disappointed they turned a rich blue like sapphires. And now, his eyes were the bluest she’d ever seen. “I was going to the kitchen when I heard you calling out… You were having a nightmare, and I didn’t want you to- to… You know…”_

_“Actually, I don’t,” he gave her a lopsided grin that made Kara’s loins spontaneously combust. “But… Thank you, Kara.”_

_“You’re welcome,” she said. Despite the utterly inappropriate setting she found herself in, she didn’t want to leave. Being in his room –on his bed– felt strangely right, like she belonged there. “Do you get them often?”_

_He didn’t even give it a second thought as he replied. “More often than not.”_

_“Do you wanna talk about it?” As soon as the words left her mouth she regretted them, and tried to take them back, “… but, you- you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”_

_Mon-El had never seen anyone so stunning as the woman sitting by his side. He’d felt an immediate gravitational pull towards her since the first moment he saw her, as if she was the yellow sun he was meant to orbit around to. But she was his boss, so he had to bury that feeling as soon as it surfaced._

_Even though he didn’t necessarily want to open up to her, before he knew what he was doing, he found himself sitting up properly and speaking –and forgetting the fact that he was still half naked under the covers. “Mmm, uh- well… it’s a long story.”_

_Making herself more comfortable by sitting against the headboard with the pillows cushioning her back, their arms brushing against one another, she smiled and said, “I’ve got all night.”_

In spite of the unhealthy amounts of coffee she consumed, she dozed off again, waking up compulsively every few minutes to check up on him. Until, straightening in her chair, she realized his eyes were open and hazily taking in his surroundings.

“Mon?” Kara asked.

“Kara?” He turned his head slowly towards the sound of her voice and smiled weakly. “You’re here.”

“Of course I am,” she affirmed trying very hard not to burst into slobbering tears. “And… so are you.”

“Yeah, well… barely,” he said before swallowing awkwardly.

She decided to ignore the truth of his statement and made her way to a side table where she noticed a jug of water and ice. “Are you thirsty?”

“Yeah,” he croaked.

Kara poured a glass and helped him take a few sips from a straw. After he finished drinking, his dry and almost brittle lips regained some of their usual plumpness. “Better?”

“Thank you,” he smiled weakly, looking longingly at the cup as she moved to place it on the tray again. “I thought I was dreaming.”

“No, no dream. Just me in all my grumpy glory,” she joked, taking his hand, which was a bit warmer, and rubbing soothing circles with her thumb.

“No, not grumpy…” he said placidly, his blue-gray eyes following her. Even in his weakened condition, she could see his hunger for her, and it thrilled her beyond everything. “You looked beautiful… with the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

“Mon…” Kara began, brushing his hair back. “I-”

“I'm sorry,” Mon-El rasped, “I’m so sorry I wasted so much time... I just thought you’d be safer if I-”

“Don’t talk,” Kara shook her head, trying to silence him. “Save your energy.”

“You sang to me,” he said suddenly, squeezing her hand with more strength than she thought he had.

“You remember that?” she asked, sure that the receding fog of anesthesia would have clouded that memory from him.

“Hard to forget,” he said with a small chuckle

Mon-El smiled weakly again and Kara’s voice caught in her throat. A sense of foreboding gripped her body as an icy fear filled her veins. She understood now, how terrifying it was to have it all, just to watch it slip from your fingers. To love, to want, and potentially, to lose –as she’d almost lost Mon-El. But, what choice did she have? She could no longer deny what was –literally– right in front of her.

“I love you,” she whispered through her happy tears, as her comet-like eyes shone bright with the revelation. “I should’ve said it before.”

“I love you…” Mon-El’s face took on a look of utter elation, all the tension disappearing as he sagged against his pillow. “And... I- I want your face to be the first and last I see each day, too.”

Kara was sobbing and laughing hysterically now, at the way life took them down some twisted paths until they could barely see ahead to what was in front of them, and feeling like they’d never find the way out. At each bend, there had been danger and uncertainty but also love and hope. The reward was right there, at reaching distance, up for grabs, if they were willing to take the leap.

“It's settled, then… I’m gonna get you somewhere safe,” she said as she placed a kiss on his dry and tired lips. “I'm gonna take you somewhere safe, where no one will ever hurt you again.”

He smiled brightly at her. “So, that means I still have a job?” He questioned, eliciting a wry chuckle from her.

"You have more than a job if you want,” she smirked. “You can have me.”

“Deal.” He gave her a small grin, barely lifting the corner of his lips, and it was clear to her that he was dozing off again. She held his hand for a good while as she watched him; the sound of his even breathing, the movement of his chest as he breathed in and out. When she thought he was asleep, she made to return to the sofa but his hand, always so strong, gripped hers tightly.

“Don’t go, yet…” He tightened his hold on her hand, giving her a reassuring squeeze, and lightly coughed before he continued. “There’s something I need to say…”

“Mon, you need to rest…” She tried to prevent him from overexerting himself, but he just shook his head and persisted.

“I don't regret it, Kara. It was worth it,” he sighed. “As long as you’re safe.”

Kara beamed and caressed his cheek. She kissed him tenderly yet passionately as she returned the sentiment from the most sincere place in her heart. “As long as we’re safe.”

**_Fin._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is it (for now). I might add to it in the future, but I am currently working on something else, so it could take a while.  
> I wanna say thank you for reading and for the support, the response this fic got truly floored me. You guys are incredible!
> 
> Until we meet again!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, and see you next time! 
> 
> P.S. I'd forgotten to tell you, you can find me in Tumblr as ms-jane-darcy


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